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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23482615">show me your future (tell me no lies)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13'>AlexiaBlackbriar13</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Olicity AU Series [18]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Arrow (TV 2012)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Psychics/Psionics, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Epilepsy, Eventual Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Palmer Tech CTO Felicity Smoak, Police Chief Oliver Queen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prophetic Visions, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Felicity Smoak, Service Dogs, Slow Burn, Starling City Police Department</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:15:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,789</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23482615</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity Smoak hails from a long line of psychics, but is considered a disgrace due to the inaccuracy of her visions. When she has a vision of new Starling City Police Chief Oliver Queen being murdered and a dirty bomb destroying half the city, she rushes to inform him, her seizure alert dog Ace by her side.</p><p>All she has to do is convince him that he and the city are in danger - which isn’t very difficult, seeing as old criminals whose lives he ruined are emerging from the shadows for revenge. She assigns herself as his personal psychic and security advisor, working alongside Deputy Chief Diggle to identify the biggest threats.</p><p>Now all Oliver has to do is make sure that Felicity doesn’t die in the crossfire… and resist falling in love with her in the process.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Olicity AU Series [18]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/355523</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>201</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>show me your future (tell me no lies)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hope you are all safe and relatively healthy and quarantining/self-isolating well xx to help stave your boredom, this is the first chapter of the fic I wrote for nanowrimo 2019. this is <b>just the first chapter as a sort of teaser slash taster, the rest of the fic needs rework and editing and will be coming in the summer</b> which is why it is currently down on ao3 as a oneshot.</p><p>i really hope you enjoy! thank you</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh fuck.”</p><p>The exclamation slips out of Felicity’s mouth before she has the chance to stop it, her brain-to-mouth filter failing her once again. That’s a common thing, though, and nothing to be worried about, except when her brain is on the fritz, which it’s beginning to become now. The other members of the board immediately stop talking and freeze, staring at her in disbelief. It’s not very appropriate for a CTO to outright swear in the middle of an important investment meeting, after all. She’s been the CTO of Palmer Technologies for two years now, and she doubts they’ve heard such profanity from her before - Ray, the CEO, certainly has, but he’s actually Felicity’s friend - so it’s only understandable that they’re surprised.</p><p>She has a very good reason for swearing, however. The golden retriever lying comfortably beside her chair, who was silent and calm throughout the entire board meeting so far, is now sitting up and urgently pawing her foot, making eye contact with her. Ace is Felicity’s service dog and he alerts her to upcoming seizures. Felicity is technically but also technically not epileptic. She doesn’t have typical epilepsy symptoms or triggers, you see. Instead of being triggered by flashing lights, loud noises, stress, alcohol or lack of sleep, she’s triggered by visions.</p><p>Felicity Smoak is, very unfortunately, a psychic. She hails from a long line of psychics; it’s a matriarchal gift that’s been passed down through her family for centuries, with her mother and grandmother being well-known for the accuracy of their future visions. Her grandmother was pursued by the Nazis due to the fact that she predicted D-Day, and her mother is… her mother. Felicity is very different to her other female relatives, however, due to the fact that her future visions are shockingly <i>in</i>accurate. They’re pretty much useless. Her mom can anticipate changes in political climates and shifts in the stock markets; Felicity can barely tell what somebody is going to eat for breakfast the next day. Her visions are always fuzzy and awful to interpret, so she doesn’t even bother. She’s also different because unlike her mother and grandmother, Felicity suffers symptoms and side-effects of her visions, in the form of seizures. </p><p>She was diagnosed as being epileptic when she was fourteen - coincidentally when her visions started. According to her mom, it was due to all of the biochemical reactions and neurotransmitter fluctuations caused by puberty adding onto all the weird brain shit going on when she had her visions. The doctors put her on anti-epileptic drugs, but nothing seemed to work. Thankfully, she wasn’t having dangerous seizures like tonic-clonic ones, mostly having absence, atonic and myoclonic seizures.</p><p>She got Ace the service dog when he was fully trained at eighteen months old, just before she escaped Vegas and headed off to study at MIT in 2007. Once she was studying computer sciences and cybersecurity, and focusing her mind on something other than how stupid her psychic abilities were, Felicity’s visions mostly stopped. They remained infrequent even after she graduated in 2009 early and started working as an IT consultant at Palmer Technologies in Starling City, slowly working her way up the ladder until she earned her place as the CTO two years ago, in 2012.</p><p>The doctors informed her that due to the infrequency of her seizures (associated with the visions) that she doesn’t need drugs anymore, but because of how she can somehow still have bad monthly episodes, she still needs her seizure alert dog. Her life is essentially normal, and she lives it however she wants.</p><p>She hasn’t had a single seizure in two weeks, at this point. Her last one was a seven-second long absence seizure that was caused by a random flash into the future where Felicity saw herself running out of icecream the next day. But now, mid-board meeting, she’s experiencing her aura for an upcoming tonic-clonic seizure - the building of tension and pressure in her skull in the form of a throbbing headache, and her hands and fingers twitching uncontrollably - and Ace is signaling to her that she needs to get somewhere safe.</p><p>The service dog is usually very accurate in his alerts, giving her around ten minutes warning. She’s about to have a full-blown future vision that is going to last minutes, rather than seconds, which means it’s going to be an actual important one. So yes. <i>Oh fuck</i> is the best way to react to this situation.</p><p>“Felicity? Is everything okay?” Ray asks her eloquently, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>The other nine people around the table are still staring at her, waiting for an answer. She doesn’t really know how to respond. She can’t just flat out tell them she’s about to have a seizure. Many of the board members aren’t aware that she’s epileptic, after all. They know she has a service dog, but not what for. Ace’s service vest doesn’t label him as a seizure dog.  </p><p>“Ace is alerting me,” she says, maintaining eye contact with Ray. The CEO knows what that means.</p><p>Ray’s eyes widen in concern. “Do you need me to -”</p><p>If he’s offering to accompany her out and keep a watch over her during the seizure, that’s… sweet, but a bit too much. “It’s okay,” she reassures quietly. “I’ll head over to my office and ask Jerry to watch me. He knows the procedure. Plus, I have Ace, so I’ll be fine.” She strokes over the soft ears of her service dog, who stands along with her, huffing and still pawing at her foot in an alert.</p><p>The seizure hits once she’s lying down safely on a couple of blankets and a yoga mat in the corner of her office, half-shielded from view by her desk. Her executive assistant, Jerry, who has watched over her during seizures before, hovers nearby, ready to step in just in case she needs help. Felicity doubts she will need his aid, though, as Ace is trained as a seizure response dog as well and can help her if she gets tangled in the blankets or threatens to injure herself. Her uncontrollable shaking intensifies as darkness swamps her vision, dragging her into unconsciousness.</p><p>The vision starts.</p><p>And it’s <i>horrific</i>.</p><p>The city is on fire. It’s chaos, with cars overturned and smoking, all the windows on the surrounding buildings smashed out; broken glass and metal shards are everywhere. She hears the sounds of explosions, gunshots, and people screaming. Cutting through all of this is the terrible, awful stench of blood mixed with sewage and charcoal, that causes Felicity’s throat to swell up. She chokes, rubbing at her eyes that feel gritty and sore. People around her have collapsed and seem to be suffocating, their skin actually <i>bubbling</i> from what must be radiation, as there’s no visible liquid covering them. Felicity herself feels like her entire body is <i>stinging</i>, like invisible acid has been thrown over her. There’s so much utter destruction and pain and fear that she can’t take it. She bends over at the waist and releases a dismayed cry that pierces through the surrounding noise, tearing the images assaulting her mind to shreds.</p><p>Just when she thinks it might be over, she’s plunged into another vision. This time, she’s in an office. There’s a man, handsome and tall, with short-cropped blond hair and stubble lining his jaw, sitting at his desk, sorting through paperwork. He’s wearing a formal black Starling City police suit with a chief badge. For a fleeting second, Felicity is confused. Why is she having a vision about some guy just sitting in his office, doing his job? But then, an explosion rocks the building, shattering the windows.</p><p>A shadowed figure in black tactical gear and a strange black and orange mask rappels in and draws out a giant, glinting sword. Felicity stumbles back in alarm, her feet feeling like they’re lodged in quicksand; there’s no escaping what she’s about to witness. The police chief, who is trying to get in contact with somebody on his radio, grabs for his gun, but before he is able to aim, the sword is plunged through his chest, directly through his heart. Felicity screams out in shock and horror as the man crumples to the ground and begins to bleed out, a pool of crimson growing beneath his prone form.</p><p>She emerges from the vision feeling like she’s encased in concrete, her head pounding and limbs aching. It’s not unusual for Felicity to feel like total shit returning to consciousness after a seizure, but she doesn’t think she’s felt this sick in a while. Ace is curled up beneath her so her head is resting on his back, and he’s turned his head to watch her carefully, making sure that she’s safe. His tail thumps in relief against her arm as she stirs, and he licks at her shoulder with a soft whine.</p><p>“That was shit,” Felicity mumbles, deciding to remain lying down until the black spots in her vision fade. She adjusts her glasses, which have slipped off her nose, in hope of clearing up the fuzziness. Peering up at Jerry, who has moved closer and is sporting a very concerned expression, she asks him tiredly, “I went tonic-clonic?”</p><p>“For three and a half minutes,” Jerry confirms. “If you’d hit four, I was going to call 911.”</p><p>Rubbing a twitching hand over her face, Felicity finally sits up, her service dog supporting her back and some of her weight just in case she’s still weak from the seizure. “I’m fine.” Not really. Her mind is still spinning, trying to recover from that vision; she’s nauseous and in shock from what she saw. Never has she had a premonition of something so cataclysmic. “Can you get me some water, please, Jerry? And then go and tell Ray that I’m taking the rest of the day off… maybe tomorrow as well.”</p><p>“Of course,” her executive assistant agrees, nodding sympathetically.</p><p>Sighing, Felicity lies back down, pressing her clenched fists into her eyes to try and relieve the pressure there. She calls this her post-vision crash; she gets all the symptoms of a migraine, including light sensitivity. Whimpering quietly, Ace shifts so he’s lying pressed up against her side, butting his big furry head into her armpit before resting it on her shoulder. Staring up at the ceiling, with Ace’s whiskers tickling her cheek, Felicity thinks over what she just saw: Starling City in complete ruins from the aftermath of what she reckons must have been some kind of dirty bomb, and a man - the police chief - brutally murdered in front of her.</p><p>Does she have a responsibility to warn people about what she’s seen is going to happen in the future? Her grandmother and mom would say yes. Their visions are usually accurate, though, and sometimes they even know the date and time of when events are going to happen. All Felicity has are images of the destroyed city and the police chief getting a sword thrust through his heart. And because her visions are rarely perfect, and normally full of faults and inconsistencies, she doesn’t know if those things are going to happen, or when, or how or why.</p><p>Frowning, Felicity rolls over to reach over to where her purse and cell phone are being stored in a little pile a few feet away, on top of her office’s guest chair. The screen of her phone causes her to wince, spikes of pain striking her brain due to the sharp blue light. She needs to find out who the man in her vision was. Google can give her answers. Skimming through the results, she strokes her service dog’s head absentmindedly while searching for some useful information. She finally finds a news article from two weeks ago that catches her attention.</p><p>
  <i>SERIAL KILLER CATCHING CAPTAIN PROMOTED TO CHIEF OF SCPD</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Captain Oliver Queen, 27 years old, was yesterday promoted to Chief of Police by Mayor Katherine Weathers. Queen is renowned for being responsible for the capture and imprisonment of notorious serial killers who have plagued Starling City, such as Slade Wilson AKA Deathstroke and Adrian Chase AKA Prometheus. Queen joined the Starling City Police in 2012 when he returned to the States after five years serving the US Special Forces. During his fourth tour abroad fighting terrorists in Afghanistan, Queen was taken as a prisoner of war by insurgents and held captive for two years. Upon being rescued, he was medically discharged. For the last two years he’s worked for the SCPD, he’s quickly worked his way up through the ranks by solving famously complex active and cold cases…</i>
</p><p>Felicity trails her way down the rest of the article, noting that one of Queen’s colleagues, a man named John Diggle, had also been promoted to Deputy Chief in the same ceremony. Her thumb poises over the screen when she scrolls down to the article’s photo. Front and center of it is the tall, handsome man from her vision - <i>Oliver Queen</i>, that’s his name - proudly donning his new Police Chief badge. Jesus, he’s even more of a pretty boy in the picture, with a flashy smile and buffed out chest that just screams confidence and arrogance.</p><p>Upon closer inspection, however, Felicity is intrigued to see the hint of a haunted darkness in his deep blue eyes; they’re gleaming with an emotion that is hard to describe, but makes Queen appear almost miserable, as if he doesn’t think he deserves his promotion and doesn’t want to be there, but he’s hiding it behind his forced cocky public persona. He’s a veteran; she doubts he enjoys attention. He’s pretending to like it for the cameras, but Felicity can see that behind his mask that this is a man who has suffered and come out of the war a completely different person, but trying to act as if he’s unaffected.</p><p>Dammit. She likes him. He seems like an actually decent guy.</p><p>“Oliver Queen,” she mutters.</p><p>He’s going to be murdered soon.</p><p>Fuck. He doesn’t deserve to die, let alone in the way she saw in her vision. A sword through the chest has to be a remarkably painful way to be killed; she wouldn’t wish a death like that on her worst enemy, let alone a man she’s never met but already has a good impression of - he’s the Police Chief, after all, and striving to protect Starling City, reduce crime and make it a safer place to live. She could try and warn him. Would he believe her though?</p><p>Probably not. Most of the population thinks that people who claim to be psychics are crazy. Despite the fact that it’s been acknowledged by the scientific communities that psychics exist, they’re not widely accepted by society yet. Perhaps Oliver Queen will be one of the few believers though… maybe Felicity can alter the path set out for him and save his life. Trying to alter the future is dangerous, she’s fully aware of that, but other psychics (although much more skilled and experienced than her) have done it before. It’s entirely possible to shift somebody’s fate and stop a premonition from being fulfilled - if it’s done carefully, precisely and with a lot of sensitivity.</p><p>But if Oliver Queen dies and Felicity doesn’t do anything to try and prevent it… yeah, she doesn’t think she would ever be able to forgive herself.</p><p>Using Ace to keep her balance, Felicity groggily gets to her feet, gathering up the blankets as she heads over to her desk. The service dog trots along behind her obediently and curls up on the dog bed next to her when she settles into her chair, loading up her monitors. It barely takes ten seconds for Felicity to track down where Queen’s office is, find his private cell number and his home address. She’s a computer expert, after all… hacking is a hobby for her.</p><p>She decides to confront him in his office, rather than at his apartment, which is located in the outskirts of the city; Starling Precinct 1, the main police headquarters, are opposite City Hall, which is only three blocks away. Another couple of minutes of not-so-legal investigating reveals to Felicity a way into the building and up to Queen’s office. Precinct 1 uses Palmer Tech patented computers and servers, so she can easily pose as a lower-level employee and get in under the guise of doing a maintenance check.</p><p>Glancing over at the golden retriever, who tilts his head at her, she scratches under his chin and asks, “Wanna go pay a visit to the possibly-soon-to-be-murdered Police Chief with Mommy, bud?” Ace rises to his paws and stretches out before slinking over to the door, picking up his leash from where it lies in a basket of dog supplies in the corner of the office. “Yup, you’re ready. Let’s go.”</p><p>Felicity waves to Jerry and tells him she’s heading home as she leaves, the lie coming easily to her, but she does feel a little guilty when her EA believes her without question. The three-block walk to Precinct 1 is an eerie one; Felicity shudders as she remembers the precise streets she’s walking reduced to rubble and carnage in her vision. Ace plods at her side and attracts curious stares with his service dog vest; thankfully nobody approaches them to try and pet him or take him away from tasking.</p><p>Precinct 1 isn’t as busy as Felicity thought it might be when she arrives. Most of the parking lot spaces outside are taken up by police cars and vans; there are a few officers mulling around in reception and through the glass doors beyond, Felicity can see that the bullpen is equally as empty, with only a couple of detectives drinking coffee and chatting at their desks visible. She’s surprised, but also not. She’s aware that SCPD is understaffed, but didn’t think that the main precinct would be.</p><p>She digs around in her purse for her Palmer Tech employee entry badge, grateful that they integrated the two-card security system last year. Each employee at the company has two cards:  an employee identity card that doesn’t state their position, but gives them entry to the main lobby and common floors, and then a personalized ID card that only gives access to particular floors that has to be swiped in the elevator. The personalized ID card has nanotech integrated into it so that it can only be used by the person whose DNA matches, meaning that it can’t be used if stolen. The entry badge is basically useless and only gets people through the first ground floor doors, so it doesn’t matter that much if that one is stolen - and it’s the card that most thieves and corporate spies target and attempt to take.</p><p>She can’t be identified as the CTO of Palmer Tech using the entry badge, which is excellent, because it means she can effortlessly lie about who she is. She doesn’t often end up in the media limelight, so she shouldn’t be recognized anyway, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.</p><p>Clipping it to her shirt, Felicity straights her spine, exhales slowly and strides towards the reception desk. Trailing behind her, his leash slack, Ace remains mostly out of sight as she approaches the desk, sitting behind her once she reaches it. “Hi!” she greets the receptionist brightly. “I’m here from Palmer Tech to do a routine check on the servers? We got a call about them lagging and slowing the system.”</p><p>The receptionist, who looks bored beyond all belief, doesn’t even look at her properly. He just glances briefly at her badge and shrugs flippantly. “Yeah, server room is on the third floor, fourth door on the left when you exit the elevator.”</p><p>Felicity flashes him a grateful smile and adds a wink for good measure. “Thanks.”</p><p>Nobody pays her any mind as she gets off the elevator on the fifth floor rather than the third, as that’s where the higher-level offices are. Some detectives eye Ace with confusion, but as soon as they see his service dog vest, they move on, suddenly uninterested again. Oliver Queen’s office is empty when she gets there, so Felicity lets herself in - he didn’t even lock the door, what kind of secure police operation are they running here? Just an overall shitty one? - and slides into his desk chair, facing his monitors. Well, while she’s waiting for him to get back, she might as well upgrade the Palmer Tech software on his computer.</p><p>Swishing his tail around to cover his paws, Ace settles down on his haunches comfortably, watching as Felicity hacks into the computer and begins combing through it, wincing at the abysmal processing speed. Not only is security shit around here, the technology is as well, and she takes personal offense to that considering that it’s her company that’s providing the tech.</p><p>“Dude isn’t even using the encrypted server to store his case files and evidence,” she mumbles under her breath in disgust, wading her way through Queen’s horrific desktop. “Never mind the security risk for the building, this guy is a security risk in himself, and he’s the Police Chief.”</p><p>Ace snorts. Seeing as how they’re in a reasonably safe, confined room, Felicity signals to him that he’s off duty and unclips his leash, and the golden retriever begins gleefully exploring the office, sniffing everything within sight and his strong, wagging tail thumping against every surface. Queen’s computer is hosting a couple of niggly viruses that are basically harmless, and don’t do much more than slow it down, so she concentrates on eradicating those, so she can install some proper anti-malware software later.</p><p>It’s probably because she’s so focused on the viruses that she doesn’t notice when the office door cracks open.</p><p>“Step away from the computer, put your hands in the air.”</p><p>Felicity freezes and arches her neck to peer over the top of the monitor. Oliver Queen is standing in the doorway with a gun pointed at her, his expression stony and cold. He’s even taller and more formidable in person - fuck, is it possible that he’s more handsome too? - and she’s actually startled by how furious he looks. He’s grabbed Ace by the collar and has restrained the service dog close to his side in a way that Felicity knows must be uncomfortable for the poor pup. When she doesn’t move, Queen clicks off his gun’s safety and takes a threatening step closer. He’s in casual wear so he’s not working, but it seems that he keeps his firearms on him at all times.</p><p>“I’m serious,” Queen growls. “Back away, hands up, or I will shoot you.”</p><p>“Okay, backing away,” Felicity replies, slowly wheeling the chair away from the desk warily. She doesn’t <i>think</i> Queen will shoot her, but she has just broken into his office and been seen accessing his computer with confidential information. “Hands coming up. Standing up from the chair. Don’t want to get shot. Very much not in favor of getting shot.” Her eyes flicker down from the Police Chief’s enraged expression to Ace, who is squirming in his grasp, trying to worm his head out of his collar to get back to her. “Okay, I’ve done what you asked. Could you please release my service dog? He’s getting stressed.”</p><p>Queen’s anger is wiped away by his bewilderment. “What?”</p><p>Keeping her hands in the surrender position, she points down at Ace, quirking her eyebrows. Confused, Queen peers down at the dog. He takes in his service vest before slipping his fingers loose of the retriever’s collar.</p><p>“Oh. Sorry,” he murmurs, squinting at Ace. “I hope I didn’t hurt him.”</p><p>Shaking his golden fur out and shooting the man an annoyed glower, Ace returns to his owner’s side, brushing up against Felicity’s leg and nuzzling her to check if she’s alright. She musses the golden retriever’s fur around his neck fondly. Queen’s attention is now fixed on her service dog rather than her, and he’s gradually lowering his gun, so Felicity reckons that it’s okay to drop her hands.</p><p>“Oliver Queen?” His eyes dart up to meet hers and narrow suspiciously. He gives a sharp nod, confirming his identity. Felicity didn’t have any doubts before, but her confidence is growing. “Hi. I’m Felicity Smoak.” She motions down at her service dog. “This is Ace.”</p><p>“Felicity Smoak,” Queen echoes. His brow twitches with a flicker of recognition. “You’re the CTO of Palmer Technologies.”</p><p>“You know who I am,” she says, delighted. Barely anybody in the general public knows who she is. That the man knows who she is means she can focus less on herself, and more on her visions about him. “Great.”</p><p>Queen tucks his gun back into his hip holster and closes the office door behind him. Crossing his arms over his chest, he questions, “Ben told me that some IT girl from Palmer Tech was here to check over the servers. This isn’t the server room, and you’re no IT girl. Why is the CTO of Palmer Tech in my office messing with my computers?”</p><p>“Funny story. Not actually here in a Palmer Tech capacity,” she tells him sheepishly. “More of a personal one. I was waiting in here for you, so started playing around upgrading your systems. Your security in this building is shit, by the way. Your CCTV is dreadful and you haven’t got any secure entry points. Reception didn’t even confirm my identity, and nobody stopped me to ask who I was as I came up here. We’ll need to fix that.”</p><p>Queen closes his eyes in what appears to be frustration, his jaw clenching. “Miss Smoak. If you came here just to insult Precinct 1’s security -”</p><p>“Oh, no, not <i>just</i> to do that,” she assures him. “Um.” She hesitates. How do you explain to somebody that you had a vision of them being murdered? “I can explain, but you might want to sit down, Mr Queen. Wait, is that right? Should I be calling you Chief Queen? Sorry. I’m - I’m a little anxious about all of this.”</p><p>Queen frowns at her, looking irritated, but despite his impatience, he does what she advises and takes a seat. He slips past her to occupy the chair behind his desk, while Felicity smiles at him awkwardly and takes the guest one, Ace lying down at her feet.</p><p>“Talk,” he demands.</p><p>“Okay…” She exhales and cautiously starts, “So you know that I’m Palmer Tech’s CTO… a lesser-known fact about me is that I’m psychic.” Oliver’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t look disbelieving yet. “I don’t know if you believe in psychics or their abilities, but every female in my family, from the Smoak bloodline, over the last century has been psychic and had very accurate visions of the future. I’ve had premonitions since I was a teenager. They cause a lot of medical problems for me - seizures, mostly, which is why I have Ace - and my visions have never been particularly clear. It’s been a long time since I’ve had one that’s been useful. It’s been a long time since I’ve had one that was longer than a couple of seconds, actually.” Pausing to take a shaky breath, Felicity ducks her head nervously, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I had two today, that lasted several minutes, while I was mid-tonic-clonic. Well, technically one vision, because they happened within the same seizure, but this vision showed me two different things.”</p><p>“Things that made you immediately want to come and discuss them with the Police Chief,” Queen says, leaning back and staring at her scrutinizingly. It sounds like he believes her so far - in fact, he’s looking at her with a knowing expression. Maybe he’s had experiences with psychics before. His expression softens when she bites her lip agitatedly, stroking over Ace’s head, which he’s propped on her knees, to try and calm her nerves. “What did you see, Miss Smoak?”</p><p>“The city in ruins,” she admits quietly, afraidly. “People… suffering. Dying. I think there’s going to be some sort of terrorist attack in the near future where they’re going to use a dirty bomb. You know - an explosive device that distributes a harmful radioactive substance.”</p><p>Queen seems to be taking this warning seriously, much to her relief, because he looks troubled. He pulls a small black leather notebook out of his inside jacket pocket, grabbing a pen to begin taking notes. “Can you give me a date?”</p><p>She flushes, ashamed. “I’m not very good with dates. I can tell you that from experience, my visions usually come true within a month of me getting them.” He nods, noting this down as well. “Mr Queen…” He halts in his writing, peering up at her with those soul-piercing blue eyes. A lump forming in her throat, she croaks out, “The second part of the vision was about you.”</p><p>He goes still. “Me?”</p><p>Ace whines worriedly, nipping at Felicity’s fingers on her lap. When Felicity nods weakly to him, Queen places his pen down and folds his notebook shut, regarding her carefully.</p><p>“Did you see me die?” he asks frankly.</p><p>“Yes,” she whispers. To her horror, he bows his head as if he’s resigned. “You were here in your office. Doing paperwork. Then there was an explosion and the windows shattered. A man wearing a mask and all-black clothing swung in. He stabbed you. With a sword.”</p><p>Felicity doesn’t know how exactly she expected him to react, but Queen rises to his feet and strides over to the window, peering out of it with a calculated expression. He doesn’t look upset, or scared, or even alarmed. He looks pensive. “What color mask?” he clarifies. “A pure black one, or were there other colors? Did the man just have swords, or did he have a bow or gun as well? Would you say he was wearing robe-like armor or just Kevlar?”</p><p>She gapes at him, astonished. “How are you so calm about this? I just told you I had a vision of you being <i>murdered</i>.”</p><p>“And I’m a police officer. When there’s a crime, even if it’s a crime that hasn’t happened yet, I have to figure out the perpetrator and their motives.” Oliver glances back at her and smiles sadly. “I’m not surprised somebody is going to try and kill me, Miss Smoak. My work in the special forces and serving the SCPD means I’ve made a lot of enemies in my life.”</p><p>Felicity shakes her head, baffled. Sure, Oliver is a high ranking police figure and is a veteran, but surely the enemies he’s talking about are the people he’s put behind bars - criminals who are locked up in Iron Heights prison and will never step a foot outside in society again. Her research into him earlier didn’t suggest that he ever got involved in tackling any of the known mobs with bases in Starling, or any of the local gangs. Back when he was a detective, lieutenant and a captain, Oliver focused on taking down serial killers, murderers, and serial rapists: psychopaths who would have received life sentences - some of them multiple sentences - in jail. So why is he expecting to be targeted by those criminals, when he knows they’re going to be contained in prison for the next thirty or more years, because he <i>put</i> them there?</p><p>The answer comes to her in the form of a sudden vision. She’s struck unexpectedly by the images of Iron Heights on fire at night, the roof ablaze and chaos out in the courtyard as firefighters attempt to control it. The leaping, raging flames cast long shadows as they burn bright in the darkness, revealing figures in orange jumpsuits working at a perimeter fence with bolt cutters, as the guards are occupied with trying to get others to safety and out of the way of falling debris.</p><p>So <i>that’s</i> why Oliver already thinks he’s in danger. A giant fire at Iron Heights provided a short window for several prisoners - most likely ones that Oliver caught - to escape. Felicity didn’t hear anything about that on the news, but she suspects that the prison, police and City Hall would have tried to keep it quiet and covered up anyway, to avoid mass panic spreading through the public. The concept of hardcore criminals roaming the streets with grudges against the city because of their years in jail is an extremely alarming one.</p><p>“- Felicity?”</p><p>She jolts back into full awareness to see that to her surprise, Queen is now crouching in front of her, grasping her hands in such a way that he can search for her pulse on her wrist as he stares at her in concern. Ace is bristling and has his body between Felicity and the man, protecting her as he’s meant to when she has a seizure, and he has his head on her lap like before.</p><p>“You weren’t responding.” Queen’s brow furrows. “Your fingers were twitching and your eyes were fluttering.”</p><p>“Sorry. I know it can look weird, especially to people who aren’t used to it and don’t know what’s happening to me. Absence seizure,” Felicity explains wryly. “They only last a couple of seconds but I get all spaced out and can’t hear anything while I’m in one. Ace was signaling to me earlier by putting his head in my lap and pawing my shoe, but I guess I was focused on talking to you so didn’t take proper note of it.” She tilts her head at him. “Are the police really going to keep the Iron Heights fire a secret from the public? You know that’s not going to go down well when the media finds out that dangerous criminals managed to escape and SCPD decided not to warn Starling.”</p><p>Queen rocks back on his heels, looking like a deer in the headlights. “How - how do you know about that? I don’t even have files on my computer about that.”</p><p>“Did you not hear me early?” she snorts. “Psychic, remember?”</p><p>“Did - did you just have a vision? Right in front of me?”</p><p>“Yup.” Felicity pinches and gently massages the bridge of her nose, hoping to stop the post-seizure headache from hitting her. “Being a psychic can really suck sometimes. Visions hit you without warning and you’re left feeling like you’ve been whacked over the head with a sledgehammer for the rest of the day.”</p><p>Straightening up, Queen heads over to a mini-fridge tucked away in the corner of the office that Felicity didn’t spot before. She’s touched when he pulls a cold bottle of water out and offers it to her. She takes it and sips slowly, sighing when the cool water helps soothe the throbbing in her skull.</p><p>“Thank you, Mr Queen.”</p><p>“Oliver, please,” he corrects. “We should be on first-name basis. I mean…” His lips tick up into an amused smile. “You <i>did</i> have a vision of me being murdered. I think that means we have a personal enough connection. May I call you Felicity?”</p><p>“You may,” she agrees, quite amazed that this conversation between them is going so well.</p><p>Another bottle of water is withdrawn by the man, along with an empty Tupperware box, and Felicity is pleasantly surprised as she watches him pour some water into it before placing it on the floor in front of her service dog. Ace laps up the water gratefully and thumps Oliver in the back of the leg with his tail in thanks as the Police Chief returns to his desk.</p><p>“I thought psychics got visions of the future, not of past events,” he muses.</p><p>Felicity shrugs. “Future, past, present… we get them all. Some psychics can read minds.” Oliver freezes and stares at her with a vaguely panicked expression. “Oh, I’m not one of them, don’t worry. I can’t astral project either.”</p><p>“What can you do?” he asks cautiously.</p><p>“You want a list of my abilities?” she raises an eyebrow at him. “Well, I suppose if we’re going to be working together - wait, we are going to be working together, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Oliver shakes his head. “To do what?”</p><p>“Prevent my visions from coming to fruition, obviously,” she rolls her eyes. “Look, this whole divining accurate prophecies thing is new to me, but my mom and grandmother taught me that if you have start having multiple visions surrounding connected events, it means you’re likely to receive more. Yes, I have a full time, very well-paying job at Palmer Tech right now, but I’d be willing to put in some work on the side to try and help you figure out how to prevent the terrorist attack on the city - and the personal attack on you - from happening.”</p><p>He eyes her warily. “It’s that sort of thing dangerous? Messing with fate and pre-established events?”</p><p>“Maybe? I mean, I’m the psychic here and I say it’s okay… my female ancestors have never had issues messing around and changing the future. It might be dangerous for me, sure, but you’re the one in greater danger,” she points out. “You have a load of criminals out there wanting to take your head off for revenge.”</p><p>“And you would be getting in their way,” Oliver presses. “You’d be putting yourself at risk.”</p><p>“I can protect myself. And you can protect me. You have a gun.” Seeing how he still appears uncertain, Felicity stands and leans over the desk toward him ardently, startling her service dog, who huffs as she goes up onto her tip-toes. “Come on, Oliver. I’m offering to be your personal prophet. I’ll even throw in the offer of being a security advisor for the SCPD - for <i>free</i>, I might add - so I can identify weak points in your system and identify threats.” Oliver still doesn’t look convinced. “You can assign me a bodyguard, if it helps you feel better. I’ll work with anybody from your team.”</p><p>The Police Chief doesn’t respond. He sits back in his chair and regards her silently, as if she’s a puzzle to be solved - one of his evasive, onerous cases that he’s struggling to find answers to. She is as much an enigma to him as he is to her. He steeples his hands together and rests his chin on top of them, gazing at her seriously. “Why are you so eager to do this?” he asks.</p><p>Felicity drops back down onto the soles of her feet. That’s a good question. She doesn’t really know but… “I want to do some good for the world,” she replies simply. “I have the chance, the ability, to prevent people from unnecessarily suffering. If I can stop it, then why wouldn’t I try?”</p><p>Cocking his head as he runs his eyes up and down her thoughtfully, Oliver finally nods. “Alright. Let’s do this. We’ll work together in an attempt to prevent the terrorist attack.”</p><p>“And to prevent your murder,” she adds, insistently.</p><p>“And that as well,” he agrees, but his voice is dismissive, as if he doesn’t care about that. “I’ve never teamed up with a psychic before for an investigation. I don’t know how it works.”</p><p>“Simple. I call you if I get any visions that could relate to the attack on you or the city. There’s the possibility I might be able to tailor my visions as well by overloading my subconscious with specific information, so if you want intel on anything, you call me and I try to get something for you to work with. As for the security advisor thing, I usually finish work at Palmer Tech around six pm, so I can get here for seven after dinner and sweat for a couple of hours on upgrading everything around here.” She raises her chain triumphantly when Oliver heaves a sigh, indicating he’s going to give in. “Do we have a deal?”</p><p>“Yes,” he replies tiredly. “As long as I’m the one buying you dinner. If you’re going to be working for us for free, feeding you is the least I can do.” Reaching across the desk, he offers her his hand. “We have a deal.”</p><p>Felicity takes it and shakes it firmly. She has to admit, she’s kind of relieved, because for a moment there she did legitimately think the Police Chief was going to turn her down and kick her out. Though she’s beginning to see that beneath Oliver’s relatively stiff and slightly stand-offish behavior, there is a man with a good heart. The fact that he’s more worried about her visions about the terrorist attack rather than her premonition about him being murdered proves that he’s a selfless person who cares more about the safety of others than himself. She picked up on that from the very start, though. Oliver served the special forces for five years, being a hostage for two of those years in war-torn Afghanistan, where he probably went through hell at the hands of his kidnappers. No man who suffered through all that and yet has dedicated his life since returning home to being a diligent member of the police force - and yet <i>hates</i> attention - could be considered egocentric.</p><p>Ace steals back her attention by barking, picking up his own paw and hopping on his other three, trying to place it on top of their joined hands. Their handshake has continued for what is now an uncomfortably long period of time longer than would be socially acceptable. Oliver doesn’t release Felicity’s hand through - he seems to find Ace’s behavior funny, because he deliberately moves and lowers their hands so that the service dog can rest his paw on top, therefore agreeing to the deal as well.</p><p>“He’s adorable,” Oliver comments.</p><p>“You can stroke him, if you’d like,” Felicity gives permission. The Police Chief wiggles his fingers in front of Ace’s muzzle until the golden retriever sniffs them in interest, nipping at his fingertips gently in greeting. Ace checks with his owner that it’s okay before he pushes his head into Oliver’s palm, happily receiving pets from the man. “He’s getting on in his years; he’s going to turn seven soon. He’s very loyal and focused on his tasking but he’s a big fluffy teddy bear the rest of the time, when he’s off duty.”</p><p>“Your epilepsy is serious enough to need a service dog?” Oliver sounds worried. Again.</p><p>“It was pretty bad before I went to MIT,” she confesses. “That’s when I got Ace. It’s much better now. I’m not even on medication anymore. Palmer Tech has developed an Ativan injector that administers emergency seizure drugs in the style of an EpiPen, so I have a couple of those in my purse in case one of the seizures ends up being so long that it could be dangerous.” She swallows when she sees Oliver’s face crease in a frown. “It won’t be a liability, Oliver. I promise. I refuse to be a burden. Yes, I will be having seizures every time I have a vision, but I know how to look after myself, and I have Ace to alert me and then keep watch -”</p><p>“Hey, hey -” Oliver cuts her off, his voice so soft that it actually shocks her. He’s caught her hand, squeezing in such a way that it’s not painful, but it’s firm pressure to bring her focus back to him. “That is <i>not</i> what I’m implying. If we’re going to be partners, I want to make sure that you feel safe in this building and with me. I want you to be able to trust that we’ll take care of you if you have a seizure in front of us, and deal with it sensitively. Understanding how serious your epilepsy is means I can prep the other people in the department it’s likely you’ll be working with. And also, I just wanted to know if you have any triggers so we can avoid them.”</p><p>Felicity deflates. “Oh.” Oliver is trying to be nice to her. He isn’t scared she was going to jeopardize their operation… he’s determined to accommodate for her. “Thank you. I don’t have any triggers like pulsing lights or strong scents or anything like that. The seizures are always brought on by approaching visions. I’ll be able to warn you when they’re coming because Ace will alert.”</p><p>As she’s finishing her sentence, Oliver’s cell phone chimes. He casts her an apologetic look and fishes it out swiftly to check it. He reads whatever text is on the screen with a sigh. When his eyes flash to meet Felicity’s, he looks contrite. “I’m sorry… it’s my mom. I’m meant to be meeting her and my sister for dinner later and she’s just told me she’s moved the reservation to an hour earlier. I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut this conversation short.”</p><p>“Oh, no, that’s okay,” she responds quickly. “It’ll be getting dark soon anyway and I need to take Ace to the park. I should go. I did barge in on your afternoon by breaking into your office, after all.”</p><p>“I’m glad you did.” Oliver offers her a light, but genuine smile. “Sorry for pointing my gun at you.”</p><p>“Sorry for messing with your computer without permission,” she laughs.</p><p>Once Felicity has clipped on her service dog’s leash and adjusted his vest, she and Oliver exit his office and walk side by side down the corridor. She stiffens when the Police Chief gently places a hand on the small of her back to guide her into the elevator - and swallows nervously when his hand remains there on the journey down to the bottom floor. It’s strange because she doesn’t actually feel like he’s invading her personal space - he’s welcome in it. But he keeps his eyes directly ahead, even when his lips twitch into another smile because he senses her staring at him.</p><p>Oliver waits with Felicity while she calls an Uber, since she’s heading home rather back to Palmer Tech. It’s as they’re standing on the sidewalk, leaning against the wall of the precinct with their elbows brushing, that the Police Chief turns to her curiously.</p><p>“You didn’t answer my question before.”</p><p>“What question?” she asks.</p><p>“About what you can do. What your psychic abilities are.”</p><p>“Oh!” Felicity purses her lips thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t. Well, as you know, there’s premonition, seeing into the future, and retrocognition, perceiving past events. The whole being able to sense what’s happening in the present thing is often called remote viewing. I can do that, occasionally. None of those are conscious abilities, though. I don’t usually have control over them.” She glances down at her hands. “There’s psychometry. I guess that’s the one thing I know I can actually trigger and make happen on purpose.”</p><p>Oliver’s eyebrows shoot up. “What’s what?”</p><p>“It’s one of the more supernatural abilities that psychics have,” she tells him, ruffling Ace’s ears as the dog patiently waits in front of her, using his nose to play with his leash as he starts to get a little bored. “Essentially, by touching a person or one of their belongings, I can obtain personal information about them. Who are they, what their life is like, what kind of person they are… that sort of thing. The information is normally very vague. It works with objects as well. I can see where they’ve been, who’s been in contact with them… sometimes you can even find out the location of the person who has owned or touched that object. It’s weird shit. I have to concentrate <i>really</i> hard to trigger those sorts of visions, and they have awful consequences. The last time I used psychometry was my last year of high school; somebody stuck a horrible note to my friend’s locker and I wanted to figure out who wrote it. It triggered a full-on tonic-clonic. In the middle of the school corridor. In front of at least <i>fifty</i> other students.” She shudders at the memory. “Not fun.”</p><p>She has Oliver’s full attention now, though. Considering she went on a bit of a ramble, she would have thought she would lose him, but he seems intrigued by this new ability she’s describing. “So if you were to touch, for example, a stolen car that was used as a getaway vehicle by robbers, you would be able to see where they went in it? Possibly even identify the people who stole it in the first place?”</p><p>“Did you not hear what I just said?” she says, scowling half-heartedly. “I can’t use psychometry without suffering from the worst kinds of seizures. Sure, it would be great to use it as a crime-solving tool, but I’d rather not be collapsing into tonic-clonics every couple of hours whenever you ask me to do your job for you.” As soon as she finishes her sentence, realizing what she’s said, Felicity claps a hand over her mouth, horrified by her rudeness. “Oh my god, I’m <i>sorry</i>. I have no brain-to-mouth filter - I didn’t mean to insult you or make it sound like -”</p><p>“No, I was being stupid,” Oliver interrupts her, smiling to reassure her that he’s not offended. “You’re right. If using psychometry means that you’ll have dangerous seizures, then you shouldn’t use it at all.”</p><p>When her Uber pulls up, Oliver hurries forward to open the car door for her. It’s kind of embarrassing because Felicity has to take a minute or two to root around in her back for Ace’s seat-belt harness attachment, and the Police Chief is left standing holding the door. </p><p>“See you tomorrow, seven sharp,” he inclines his head, helping her clamber into the car. “Wait in reception. We’ll get you kitted up with an SCPD ID and then I’ll take you on a tour so you can meet some of my team.”</p><p>Felicity nods, glancing back at him briefly as she gets her service dog settled on the seats beside her. “Sounds good. I’ll text you what to buy me for dinner,” she winks.</p><p>“Oh, I didn’t give you my cell number.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, I’ve already got it,” she smirks.</p><p>Oliver blinks.</p><p>“Tech expert,” she reminds him with a wicked grin. “And really, your cybersecurity is… terrible. I’ll be so happy after I upgrade it so that it doesn’t take me less than ten seconds to steal all your personal information from the server.”</p><p>“You probably shouldn’t talk about your illegal hacking in front of a police officer, Felicity,” Oliver deadpans.</p><p>“I don’t judge your hobbies,” she counters. “Which apparently includes pointing guns at people.”</p><p>“Wow, you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Oliver rolls his eyes. “Goodbye, Felicity. Have a nice evening.”</p><p>“Bye, Oliver. I hope you enjoy your dinner with your family.”</p><p>Just before he shuts the car door, the man pauses and leans in and adds, “Goodbye, Ace. Enjoy your walk in the park with Felicity. Take care of her.”</p><p>The service dog perks up at the sound of his name and thumps his tail against Felicity’s leg. Once the door is closed, the car pulls away from the curb. Felicity risks a glance back at Oliver - to see the man standing with his hands in his pockets, watching her depart with a deeply thoughtful expression. Her heart skipping a beat, she hastily turns back around so he doesn’t catch her looking at him, exhaling slowly. Ace cocks his head at her, huffing to himself.</p><p>“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers to her service dog. “That went… so much better than I expected.” Oliver believes her, for one thing. And not only does he believe her, he wants to work with her. She’s going to be his psychic consultant - for the first time in her life, her abilities, which have been nothing but a hindrance for her whole life so far, might help save actual human lives, including Oliver’s.</p><p>Ace grunts, resting his head on her knee.</p><p>“He was nice, wasn’t he? He was a little snappy at the beginning but he’s a decent guy,” she continues to muse.</p><p>Oliver Queen awes and terrifies her at the same time. He’s a perceptive man who may not be classically intelligent, but he’s smart in other ways, and obviously quite intuitive when it comes to understanding and tracking down criminals. It’s certainly going to be interesting working with him - especially if she’s going to be trying to prevent his murder. And especially if Felicity is going to continue having psychic visions and suffering from seizures, around him or in front of him. Guess that means she’ll be waving goodbye to her attempt at a normal life. Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing… she’ll have to figure out along the way.</p><p>“<i>In every ending, there’s a new beginning</i>,” she quotes under her breath.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!</p><p>twitter: @lexiblackbriar<br/>tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13</p></blockquote></div></div>
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